Hong Kong

Exchange Rate: $1USD = $7.3HKD (Hong Kong Dollar, suspiciously labeled with HSBC bank logo. Every 5 years, Hong Kong rotates which of the 3 major banks prints their money. Who ever it is adds their logo to the currency)
Language: Mandarin and Cantonese (too difficult to translate the pleasantries)
Cost of a room: outrageously expensive!!
Preferred method of transportation: Western.

I thought I was over my Starbucks addiction, until I got to Hong Kong airport and smelled that fantastic smell Starbucks has perfected. I am off the wagon and loving it. The caffeine jolt has helped me tremendously in navigating the city by foot, I am guessing I've logged at least 5 miles per day since I've been here.

Hong Kong is a full of contradictions. It is modern and ancient at the same time. Hong Kong Island and Kowloon are a combination of modern high-rises intermixed with old Chinese buildings and culture. Some of the most brilliant sky scrapers are clad with bamboo scaffolding covered with a standard tarp to protect pedestrians from overhead facade work.

Hong Kong is an urban planner's dream. Walking anywhere in Hong Kong would be a time consuming disaster if not for the extensive system of modern, beautiful, elevated walkways and pedestrian subway corridors saving pedestrians from street crossing in most areas. The public transportation is endless and could not be easier to use; sparkling clean MTR trains, double decker, air conditioned public buses, 16-seat single level public light buses, and double decker trolleys are readily available for those who choose not to travel by foot.

The signage in the City is perfectly done and without it, Hong Kong would be a nightmare. Each time I wonder how I am going to get to my next destination, a sign miraculously appears, guiding me through the complex maze. 

The biggest problem here is pollution. It is the worst I have ever seen many times over. The residents blame it on the south winds from China, but I think the diesel fueled buses and coal fired power stations are also be a pretty heavy contributor.

Outside of the diversity and enormity of the city, a few highlights of Hong Kong include:

- Dim Sum at Maxim's. The restaurant overlooks Victoria Harbour and the dim sum (known as yum cha) is out of this world.

- Tram to Victoria Peak. The super steep climb is unreal on the tram. It's even more astounding to know that before trams, two men would carry guests up to the peak on a chair elevated by wooden sticks.  The view from outside Burger King is nearly as good as the view from the Peak Viewing deck.  If you don't mind the smell of fast food burgers, you can save a few bucks on the ticket to the top.

- Star Ferry ride across Victoria Harbor. I read about this and tried it, not overly optimistic about the experience. In a city where everything is so expensive, being able to take a ferry across one of the busiest harbors in the world for about $0.15USD is not only fascinating, but unbelievable. The view of both sides is amazing and, given the pollution, the skyline finally becomes clear when you get that close.

- Symphony of lights. Each night, the city coordinates a light show from the sky-scrapers located along the harbor front. Although well coordinated, it was not overly impressive. I may have set my expectations too high, assuming that the entire harbour front would participate, but it was only a few buildings.

- Gecko Lounge. This living room style bar is one of the best in the City. It is run by a French guy who's been in Hong Kong for 17 years. Since I was the first one in the bar, he gave me the low down on the City and the bar. Each night, there is a 3-member live jazz band joined my random talents who stop in to jam with the group. When I was there, the group was joined by a singer who could mimic the sound of a trumpet with his mouth. It was great.

- Lantau Island. The home of the airport, Hong Kong Disneyland, 3 prisons, the best beaches Hong Kong has to offer and a giant bronze Buddha. He is the largest outdoor, sitting Buddha in the world. When I saw the Swastika on his chest, I was immediately offended. Thanks to Google and Wikipedia, I learned the Swastika dates back to the neolithic period and was used as a Buddhist religious symbol for a long time. Only after use by Nazi Germany did it become controversial.

- Happy Valley Racecourse. It is hard to believe that one of the must see events in Hong Kong is horse racing. Could it be more perfect for me? It could have been more perfect if I would have been given the right information about the start time and not missed the races. I am hoping to make it on Saturday, assuming I don't have to leave early due to the Typhoon.

Halong Bay

Halong Bay is in the Gulf of Tonkin in North Vietnam.   After Colleen left, I decided to head in that direction. Since I am protesting the cattle calls of group tours, I consulted the traveller's bible for a route I could take solo. It advised to take a bus to Hai Phong then catch a boat to Cat Ba Island in Halong Bay where boat trips are offered everywhere. Sounded easy enough.

When I got to the bus station, they picked my bag off my back and, literally, shoved me on a bus. I confirmed it was going to Hai Phong and took a seat. When we started the bus was going so slow pedestrians were passing us. Since I was the only non-Vietnamese on the bus, it was unlikely that they were screwing with me, but my suspicious nature allowed me to contemplate it for a few moments anyway.  After a while I figured out the driver's assistant was hanging out the door soliciting additional passengers. He did this until the bus was full then we were off.....

When we got to Hai Phong, the bus dropped me off in the middle of a random road by slowing down to a crawl, opening the door and handing me my backpack.  Someone pointed to the back of the bus and said Halong.  I got out and started walking. When I got to the corner, I asked someone how to get to Cat Ba Island, but no one spoke English.  A young guy offered me a motorbike ride and when I politely declined he started yelling at me and mocking me. This drew a crowd of people who started laughing at me. Not knowing what they were saying or what to do, I just stood there.  A guy with a yellow hard hat came up to me and pointed me in a direction and said Halong.  I started walking again, leaving the ridicule behind.  The direction he pointed me in was intercepted by a roundabout with roads that did not continue on my same path. I stopped to ask some women who were sitting on the side of the road, but they didn't speak English and  the only help they offered was to raise the handfull of baby chickens they were holding as if I wanted to purchase one.  Disgruntled, I turned around, and saw the guy with the construction hat had followed me and was going to save me from further pain by giving me more precise directions. 

He showed me to a bus, it was the wrong bus. After about 5-10 minutes of showing the driver my map and explaining I did not want to go to where he was going, he opened the door and let me out. I was back to walking around asking where to go again. Have I mentioned I had my 45 lb back pack and it was about 34 degrees Celsius? 

Eventually I made it to the ferry port, and was rerouted due to the weather conditions.  The new route was a bus to different boat, to another bus. I paid 240,000 Dong. The Vietnamese paid 100,000. I sat by a 3-month old baby who kept starring at my boobs making a sucking noise. His father openly chuckled as he carried the baby in his lap, holding his bouncing head for the 20-minute ride through the freight port. 

The boat looked pretty sturdy, but was filled beyond capacity with men, women, children and motorbikes.  When it started pouring down rain, everyone ran to one side of the boat. Given the amount of rain in Vietnam, this was not an anticipated reaction. I held my ground on the wet side hoping to keep the boat from tipping over. I was not going down on a Vietnamese boat in the middle of a freight port.

After an uneventful second bus ride, I arrive in Cat Ba town. It is gorgeous here. It is like Krabi with limestone rock formations jetting out of the sea.  This photo is from my $12 a night hotel room.  It is overlooking the Bay, which is a small city of boats and floating homes housing local fishermen.  Some of the boats are large, but there are many small, wooden boats (no bigger than a boston whaler) with a tiny canopy for protection from Typhoon downpours.  The bed is a heap of clothes in the middle.  Intermixed with the boats are small wood-framed homes smaller than most kitchens and often housing a family of four.

The people in Cat Ba are fantastic.  It is big rock climbing destination and on my first night I ended up bouldering at one of the local schools.  Bouldering is when you climb up on a interior wall, constructed of stone, and horizontally scale the wall around the room.  I was not very

 good, but it was fun.  It was here where I found two Irish girls to go onto Halong Bay with.  Although the Typhoon was over, boat trips had not been rescheduled, so you had to find your own group and rent a boat.  When we met up in the morning, it was in the middle of a monsoonal downpour.  The girls had me convinced it would be an experience regardless of the weather and I decided to ignore the raging rain and take the boat trip.  As soon as we got to the boat, the rain slowed significantly and the day was gorgeous.  

We had the entire boat to ourselves and were one of a few boats on Halong Bay.  Around noon we took out kayaks and started heading through a cave.   Half way through, we saw a shark.  According to the boat guides, there are no sharks in Halong Bay, but there was a large fin swimming around at the end of the cave and heading towards us at one point.  I have never kayaked as fast as I did to get out of there. We were rewarded with the sun coming out.  

Vietnam

The high and low points of the last few days.....

Nha Trang

We spent the rest of the time scuba diving, snorkeling, getting foot massages on the beach and eating some of the best sea food ever; lobster, clams, muscles, oysters, prawns, all fresh and fantastic! Second to the cheese plate at Ooh la in San Francisco, the oysters cooked with a quail egg was one of the best food combinations I have ever had.

Hoi An

Hoi An is a cute little colonial town on the coast of Vietnam. There is one tailor shop per person living there. If you are looking for an affordable wardrobe and/or closet full of new shoes, Hoi An is your place.

Walking through the fishing village, we met Sung and his father who demonstrated fishing with a giant net they would raise from the water with a large wheel. It was fascinating to watch them work and talk with their family.

We had one of the best Indian meals I've had, but it let to severe food poisoning. Combined with sleeping on a rock bed, the overall experience was not the best. It has taken 4 days to be able to think about eating anything besides french fries. Why are they so good?

Hanoi

We chose Hanoi as a launch point for Halong Bay. Due to the Typhoon, we were unable to reach Halong Bay, but enjoyed the diversity of the City and the comfy beds we used for our recovery. Hanoi is a large city with affluent homes surrounding a deteriorated and congested core. There is cat on the menu for breakfast (I know it's sick to say, but, finally someone found a good use for them) and Dog for dinner. 'Dog Meat Restaurant Area' is a 1-kilometer stretch of road with over 60 restaurants that serve up man's best friend as the main course. This is sad. To avoid bad luck, the Vietnamese avoid eating dog in the first half of the lunar month. I've got to believe that eating dog in the first place is bad luck.

The traffic in Hanoi rivals Ho Chi Minh City. The unwritten rule of driving is, the bigger vehicle gets the right of way and pedestrians better run. Lonely Planet compares crossing the street in Hanoi to parting the Red Sea. I have not attempted the later, but feel I may be ready based on this experience. Since the horror stories of near death traffic conditions never get old (right?), I would like to introduce a new, exceptionally psychotic, breed of taxi driver discovered in Hanoi: the driver who's horn honks continuously with one tap. I am not referring to the wussie drivers who play a tune with their horn, I mean actual honking, non stop. One tap. Twenty plus honks. This driver has his own set of road rules and is a raving lunatic. This driver....

- will not stop the horn, even when no one else is around.

- will not stop for red lights. Instead, goes around the law abiding drivers and through the intersection like there is no one else on the road.

- has no respect for larger vehicles. He will take a bus head on, traveling on the wrong side of the road.

- will probably hit you if you are in a car and will definitely it you on a motorbike or bicycle if you don't get the hell out of the way.

Colleen couldn't watch. I had to. It was awesome.

We are alive!!!

What a day. We woke up to the sound of hundreds of horns honking, at nothing, this morning at 6am. Thank goodness for earplugs. Those suckers really work. We headed to the coconut-lined beach and rented a couple of chairs and relaxed. For lunch, a Vietnamese lady cooked us lobster and prawns on the beach and it was fantastic. Then Colleen had the brilliant idea to rent scooters and take them to the Phat Ba Mud Baths.

We rented the scooters from our hotel. I had never ridden one, so when they handed it to me with no instruction, I was quite shocked. I found out it's not that hard once you get it started. Give it some gas and hope for the best. We were off. With no gas. We were served up with empty tanks and pointed in the direction of what we supposed for quite sometime to be a phantom gas station. On fumes, we found it. Of course, this was my first stop, so I cruised in dragging my flip-flops like they were the added traction I needed to navigate myself to a complete stop. They guys at the gas station laughed at me for a good two or three minutes. The traffic in Nha Trang is extremely mild compared to Ho Chi Minh City, but it's still Vietnam and no traffic laws apply. We started our journey going straight and that was pretty good. I didn't even need my horn for the first few kilometers. Until the traffic light. The traffic lights have a countdown, so when the number gets to 3-2......we're off. Everyone is in a big group and starts motoring. This was my first cut off; a guy to my immediate right decided to turn left in front of me. I cleared him and made my first honk of a true Asian staple, the horn. We kept missing the turn to the mud baths so we were going back and forth down a pretty big road. Of course to turn around we had to do a u-turn in the middle of the road. It's pretty scary, but there is some organized chaos, unwritten rules and polite courtesies that apply: as previously mentioned, he who honks the loudest, longest and does not flinch usually gets the right of way; he who is on a track that cannot be changed usually gets the right of way; and you had better hold on for dear life. After clearing the street a few times going back and forth, we hired someone to show us the road. I was relieved for a short period of time when we headed down a small dirt road with little traffic. My bliss was short-lived when I found myself battling potholes and dogs. At this point I succumbed to the Asian philosophy of honking at everything; the pedestrians, the dogs, the potholes. It's survival. If you honk, they know you are there and you are determined to keep going. I headed on like Red McCormick from the tractor scene in Footloose, if I wouldn't have been tied to that scooter, I would have jumped. I prevailed and took the right-of-way from those damn dogs. We got there in one piece.

The mud baths were ok. I'm not convinced it isn't a scam as the mud bath seemed a little like dirty water with some silt in it. But it was a nice mental break from scootering. I did not enjoy that tubs filled with Asians in nude color speedos. Which brings me to a topic I had started writing about previously, but never finished: why the speedo should be banned, everywhere. There are many obvious reasons, it shows everything, it is embarrassing for one's significant other and it is down right ugly. However, there are some more subtle reasons I have discovered on my trip, most specifically with the help of one European Gentleman in Krabi:

- There is no reason to be reminded that leg hair does not actually end

- When in a boat, there are often areas where you have to duck down to clear obstacles. If the subject wearing the speedo is standing in those areas it is uncomfortable for everyone.

- If someone is wearing a speedo, they are clearly oblivious to the thoughts of others both in and out of the water. The self-centered speedo wearer is more likely to snorkel around with no concern for the location of others, which makes it highly likely you may run into the subject's speedo while swimming along minding your own business and checking out the fish. Again, uncomfortable for everyone.

- When the subject puts on a t-shirt, he gives the appearance of being a flasher with nothing on but the t-shirt.

- The speedo wedgie.

On the way back from the mud bath we successfully navigated 3-4 roundabouts and/or intersections with 4-way traffic, uninhibited by stop signs, yields signs or streetlights. Each time we cleared one, Colleen would check for me in her rear view mirror and give the thumbs up sign. Yes, we made it!

Living through an Asian motorbike ride: check!

Nha Trang, Vietnam

We got back into Vietnam.  The street side visa worked.  What a pleasant surprise to drop off your passport and get it back with a legitimate visa at a cheaper price than going through the Consulate.  On our way to Nha Trang, from the airport, we encountered the greatest taxi scam in SE Asia: the meter.  I am certain it was adjusted to move at lightening speed to ensure the driver could retire after our trip from the airport.

Nha Trang is a town located on the coast of the South China sea in the southern central area of Vietnam.  I am sitting in a small hostel bar listening to Kanye West and Daft Punk's Stronger. The bar has a state of the art disco light, a pool table, a big screen tv playing soccer, and the remaining room is taken up by a bout 6 tables and the computer where they offer free internet to those who consume their beverages. That's how I was roped in. I asked the young Vietnamese gentleman harassing me in the street if he knew where an internet cafe was and he told me it was free at his bar with the purchase of a glass of wine that costs as much as most dinners.  The only downfall of the bar is that is it about 95 degrees in here, only slightly warmer than outside.  It is better than wandering the street where a large rat recently scampered across the sidewalk, nearly over my toes. 

The beach in Nha Trang looks great.  It comes with a full carnival on the boardwalk.  Looking forward to the Vietnamese Ferris Wheel.

Angkor Wat

Exchange Rate: $1USD = 4100r (riel).  The unofficial currency of Cambodia is the US dollar and the ATMs dispense only US dollars.

Hello:  sua s'dei

Thank you: aw kohn

Prefered method of transportation: motorbike driven tuk tuk with a 4 seat carriage in the back. The largest and most comfortable tuk tuk I have seen to date.

The Angkor Wat temples were constructed from the 9th through 13th century by the ancient Khmer empire and are the largest religious temples in the world. They are magnificent. They are constructed by stone and surounded by giant moats and complex irrigation systems, even by today's standards. Words cannot describe to the enormity of the series of temples and the vast difference in styles and layout. 

The first day we spent touring the temples via tuk tuk.    A very nice tuk tuk.  Since it rains

 about 8 hours a day, the carriages have roll down sides to protect the passengers from the monsoon downpour.  We discovered this is a necessary element for the tuk tuk experience. The day was filled with a lot of driving, and walking, in the rain.  We started off visiting Angkor Wat, the largest of the temples seen to the right.  

Another highlight of the first day was Bayon, in Angkor Thom.  With 216 gargantuan faces staring at you from every direction, it is quite fascinating.   

The second day we went to a floating village in the morning.  Because of the rains, the roads on the way to the village were flooded.  The depth of the water was up to 8 inches and the cars, tuk tuks, bicycles and walkers took it like just another 'day in the life'.  Many of the homes on the side of the road were in standing water, surrounded by children playing in the monsoon lakes and people taking the flood as an opportunity to wash their car, their tuk tuk or their body.  The village was kind of a rip off at $25 per person to cruise out to the lake on a boat and be forced to stop by souvenir shops.  However, it was quite fascinating to see homes, on land during the dry season, floating in 20 feet of water.  And, we got to see a crocodile farm.

After the floating village, we went back to the temples.  The highlight of the second day was our last stop, timed perfectly to be right before the daily monsoon downpour, Pre Rup, a temple elevated to overlook the jungle and the rice fields.  After climbing the gigantic stairs (nothing in Angkor Wat is small), it was a stunning sight.

Siem Reap, the town adjacent to Angkor Wat is a French influenced town with great bars and restaurants. It is definitely a place to visit again.

Getting to Maddox's home country

Colleen and I met in Saigon and planned on heading to Cambodia for a few days then re-entering Vietnam for the balance of her trip.  When Colleen and I arrived at immigration in the Saigon airport, they took my visa, preventing me from re-entering Vietnam .  Asking why, the immigration officer kindly explained that we only had a single-entry visa, were screwed and there was nothing he could do to help us get back into the country in 3 days.  Vietnam is one of the few countries in Asia where you have to have a visa prior to entry.  Knowing this, we had ordered a multiple-entry visa, but had not noticed it was processed incorrectly at the Consulate.  When we left Saigon, we did not think we would be returning to Vietnam. 

When we arrived in Siem Reap, we hopped in a cab and headed to our hotel.  The cab driver started the ride with polite conversation about where we were from and how long we were staying.  He then informed us that the best way to get to Angkor Wat Temples was to hire a driver and gave us his pricey.  Unwilling to commit this quickly into the trip, we politely declined.  He continued to push and we continued to say we didn't know what our plans were, but that we would call him when we determined what they were.  This started a quiet tirade about the French couple who said they would call and never did.  As we continued our drive, at about 10 miles per hour and getting passed by everyone else on the road, he kept asking us to "help him" by hiring him, his voice getting softer and angrier.  When we made our determined indecision crystal clear, he pulled off the road, got out of his car, and removed the taxi sign from the top of the car.  Red flag.  He turned left onto a somewhat desolate road, continued to mumble about the headache we were giving him by not hiring him on the spot and picked up his cell phone.  At that point, Colleen and I asked to get out of the cab, which started a new, still angry, dialogue about why we were scared.  By the time we got through that, we were at our hotel, safely.  The desolate road was the road leading to our fancy hotel. 

The good news is, we found a company who can get us a visa to get back into Vietnam and we discovered the cab driver does not represent a typical Cambodian.  Everyone else we have met has been fantastic.  Even though they work really hard to sell you anything and everything, there is no feeling of resentment here.  Introducing, self-named, Spider Boy.  The most industrious kid we've ever met.  He was up at 4am selling tables at the restaurant, guide books, postcards and his soul if you would buy it.  The girl in the photo above was also selling post cards and, upon knowing we were from California, recited what we later determined to be the recital of every school-aged child in Cambodia "Sacremento is the Capital of California, it is in the United States and Washington DC is the capital of the United States.  There are 50 states, Alaska is the biggest and Rhode Island is the smallest.  There are 300 million people in America and our Prime Minister is George W. Bush."

Saigon: The home of the two story KFC

Exchange Rate:  $1USD = $16,500 Dong

Hello: Xin Chao

Thank you: Cam on

Time Difference:  14 hours ahead of PST

Preferred Method of transportation:  Cyclo: a bicycle driven carriage with a small seat in front

Ho Chi Minh City.  30 people are killed each day in traffic accidents in Vietnam, most of them, I suspect, in Ho Chi Minh.  There are 8 million people weaving cars and motorbikes through the unsignaled intersections, often at 90 degree angles to one anther.  Driving and crossing the street is a cross between playing a real life game of chicken and frogger.    Whoever honks the loudest, longest and doesn't flinch to oncoming traffic, usually gets the right-of-way.

Even compared to my stay in KL, my living situation has been stepped up a notch or two here.  We are staying at the Sheraton, Saigon.  Outside of the fact that anything you purchase in the hotel is 100 times more expensive than just outside the hotel, it is fantastic.  The shower has 3 different nozzles and the beds are Heavenly.

The food is amazing, two story KFC excepted, of course.  One of the delicacies we have not tried is balut. Balut is a fertilized duck egg with a nearly developed embryo inside.  It is cooked and served in the shell, cracked, and eaten out of the shell with a spoon.  It is said to be an aphrodisiac.  The Vietnamese have limits with this dish.  If the duckling is too old, meaning the bone structure, or beak, is too fully developed, they will pass on that egg and move on to a younger, more tender one.  Another untried delicacy is dog.  Yes, they admittedly eat dog here.  Again, limits are put in place as they only eat mean, crazy or stupid dogs.  The smart ones are safe.  Darwinism at its finest.

We went on a tour and experienced Vietnam's unique religion of Cao Dai and the Cu Chi tunnels of the Vietnam war.   Everyone should consider converting to Cao Dai.  The religion, as explained by our tour guide, is a cross between "Buddhism, Hinduism, Catholicism, Taoism, Confucianism, Protestantism and Materialism" and the symbol is the one-eye.  Basically, you get to worship whoever or whatever you want, including material things.  That is freedom of religion.  Cao Dai is practiced by 4 million people and only in south Vietnam.  We viewed a noon mass and although it was nice to see, it felt a bit intrusive to be wandering around on the balcony above the worship snapping pictures during the mass.  

The tour of the Cu Chi tunnels (pronounced koochi) was a mix of emotions, mostly shock and sadness for the American and Vietnamese soldiers and civilians who died.  One the to the tunnels, our guide explained to us the devastation caused by our use of Agent Orange, Napalm, C-130s and B52 bombers then took us to a handicraft shop where the government employs victims of this American devastation.  After Colleen and I slumped down in our minivan seats then watched the victims create beautiful works of art with surgeon like precision, we did our part to help by purchasing a whole bunch of stuff from the handicraft store.  

The introduction at the Cu Chi tunnels told stories of American slaughter, Vietnamese war heroes, including a teenage girl, who were honored for the mass killing of Americans, and the various methods of Guerrilla warfare employed by the Vietnamese.  The stories were told matter-of-factly, without hatred towards America, even by our guide who fought against us in the war and lost several family members and friends to our destruction of Cu Chi.  Even presented as such, it is extremely difficult to listen to.  Seen through the eyes of the South Vietnamese supporting the Vietcong, I can begin to understand the mayhem of the war.  The tour included demonstration of the underground traps set by the Vietnamese to mame, but not kill, American soldiers before we entered and crawled around the tunnels.  The opening to the tunnels were about 16" by 12", limiting the size of the people who can enter.  Additionally, the tunnels were narrowed at certain point to keep out the "big, fat Americans".  The tunnels we entered were about 3' high by 2' wide.  They were hot and damp.  It is unimaginable what it must have been like to live down there with little to no light.  

The most uplifting part of the Cu Chi tunnel tour was when we got to shoot an AK-47 and a M-16.  Talk about power.  The Chinese and Russians supplied some great weapons!

Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia

I flew through Kuala Lumpur, the capital of Malaysia, on my way from Indonesia to Vietnam.  Due to flight schedules, I spent the night and wished I had more time.  The city is amazing.  Very modern and progressive with a great public transportation system.  I treated myself to the finer things in traveling: a steak dinner with wine, a nice hotel including consistently hot water with pressure, crisp, clean sheets, a bath tub, and  no bugs.  It was like being on vacation!

Petronas Towers, shown to the left, used to be the tallest buildings in the world until Taipei 101 was built.  It is stunning by day and absolutely breathless lighting up the sky at night.  Unfortunately, I could not get to the 41st story view bridge the day I was there, but I spent a fair amount of time admiring the exterior.  What an architectural beauty with magnificent massing and detailing.  And, as with most modern Asian high-rise building, top of the line shopping on the bottom 5 floors.  

I hope to make it back to KL on another trip through Malaysia and spend some more time there.

Right after I posted my last blog, the gecko started up again, so I grabbed the handy flashlight Julie and Olin bought me for the trip and busted this guy peering around the rafter on my balcony.  
He was no fewer than 4 feet away from me eyeing my open, screenless windows trying to sneak his way over.  Slow to go into new places, my ass.  I will be sleeping in the heat tonight.  I think I pissed him off by closing the windows as I hear him saying over and over again in a deep, frog-like croak 'let me in'.    

Pulau Weh

From Danau Toba, I decided to go to Pulau Weh, a small island off the northern coast of Sumatra, in the Indian Ocean.  I stopped through Banda Aceh on my way.  Banda Aceh is a coastal city and the one hit hardest by the two natural distastes of 2004;  the oceanic earthquake and the following tsunami. Banda Aceh was the closest city to the epicenter of the 9.0 earthquake, which took down most of their buildings.  What remained was devastated by the tsunami that followed about an hour later.  160,000 people were killed, which was about 25% of their population.  The hotel I stayed at has photos of a large ship parked at the hotel site immediately following.  It's humbling to see the continued devastation.  While some things have been rebuilt, there is still a lot of work to be done in reconstructing housing, hospitals, ports, and the airport.  If Banda Aceh wasn't such a shit hole, I'd consider a job opportunity.

Pulau Weh is amazing.  It is a beautiful island, uninhabited due to the difficulty in getting here, and very calming (with the exception of my 'I'm not connected panic attack' which took place this afternoon when, right before the power, and

 internet, went down, I learned BofA was cutting off my ATM card due to suspicious charges and I couldn't figure out how to make a phone call to the United States to fix it. Don't worry, the power came back up a little while later and Kristi came to my rescue).  

I am staying on Gapang Beach and, although it is the main beach, it is very undeveloped.  There are only about 30 bungalows/room on the entire beach.  I don't mean establishments, I mean rooms.  

The electricity goes out for a couple hours each day and there has only been water for about 6 hours in the two days I've been here.  In the bathroom they have mandies, which are built up basins filled with water to compensate for the times without.  The water is used to flush the toilet, brush your teeth and shower.  I had my first mandi shower and let me say that pouring cold water on yourself in an attempt to cleanse is not as easy, or as fun, as it sounds.  

There are more chickens, geckos and goats than natives on the island.  And the geckos are huge.  I am trying to get past it, but they make such a loud sound, it's hard to forget they could fall from the ceiling at any moment.  In fact, there is one doing his thing right now, he can't be far.  And, since there is no air conditioning and it is rather hot, the only option I have for sleeping is to keep the windows open at night to allow the Indian Ocean breeze in.  I have heard that the large geckos take quite a while to enter a new space; I am hoping the one taunting me at this moment is not warning me he's ready to make his move.   

I have met most of the locals, since they run the dive shop, restaurant, etc, and heard their tsunami stories.  Because the beach is not very wide, the tsunami did not gain tremendous height in Pulau Weh and the devastation was not even close to what is was on Banda Aceh, located only a few kilometers away.  There were only 3 lives lost on the island.  I have talked to people who ran up the hill in order to flee, people in boats who had no knowledge of the tsunami until they came back to see the washed out shore, and people who were diving and only knew something was wrong when the fish all started acting strangely and swimming to the surface.

Pulau Weh is also devoutly Muslim.  There is only one restaurant open during the day and you have to go in the back door, speakeasy style.  Everything is closed off to give the appearance of being closed and to add and extra element of swarms of flies to your dining experience.  Surprisingly, the food is fantastic.  It doesn't hurt that it's the only option.

Diving here is phenomenal.  The underwater colors are so rich, it's like a whole new world.  The corals are by far the best part, but we also saw a honeycomb eel, which is a large eel that looks brown with yellow leopard type spots.  Very cool.

One of the best parts of the island is the hammock, where I make my home in the afternoon.

Cost of hammock: 0

Cost of room: 275 IDR

Preferred method of transportation: walking

Danau Toba (Lake Toba), Sumatra, Indonesia

I arrived at Danua Toba yesterday.  Lake Toba is a large lake created by the implosion of a volcano.  It is about 3,000 feet above sea level and the largest volcanic island in the world.  There is an island in the middle of the lake, Samosir, which is where most of the hotels are and where I am staying.  It is virtually untraveled and since there is nothing to do, very relaxing.  There are a few tourists, and many locals.  No bank, slow internet and they don't even take travelers checks.  I don't understand how the hotels and the restaurants stay open, the hotels seem less than half full and I have been the only person in the restaurant for most of my meals.  They cook the food fresh, since they don't know in advance if they will have any customers, but is relatively bland in comparison to Thai food.  Most of it is fried.  There are chickens everywhere and I am certain I heard one being killed right after I ordered my last meal of chicken soya.

Because there are so few tourists, it is very cheap.  One of the best places on the island is only $10 per night.  On the flip side, everyone goes for the hard sell to all tourists.  Even walking down the street, I am approached by locals who attempt to befriend me, but really want me to take a tour or go to their bar.  

The people of North Sumatra are known at Batak people, a collective term used to identify  a variety of ethnic groups found throughout the Sumatra highlands.  Lake Toba is the center of this mixed culture.  The traditional Batak house is on stilts with a ladder leading to a 4' high door into the living area.  The photo to the right is of the lake and the roof of a traditional Batak house.  

Last night, I met up with some people to watch traditional Batak dancing.  Although the dancing was underwhelming, the Batak folk singing was fantastic.  There were drums, the playing of a beer bottle, yodeling and the guy introducing and explaining the music is officially one of my favorite people ever.  He was about four and a half feet tall and I am pretty sure he was wasted.  He spoke slowing and with intent as he explained that the Batak drinking song is sung by 'young people who often have too much to drink and get drunk'.  His stellar introduction was followed by what sounded like a drunken, slurred Indonesian-Irish song and included the continuous and nearly tragic stumbling of many of the performers.  It was awesome.

In Sumatra, they love their pot, magic mushrooms and bats.  Alright, maybe they don't love the bats, but they don't seem to mind them.  I hate bats.  Much more than lizards and geckos.  I really hate them.  I have seen them flying around the street, through the open air restaurants and they have gotten dangerously close.  Last night, a friend who had partaken in the magic mushroom tea offered at a local laundry facility tried to convince me it was a bird.  No birds fly at night.  I wasn't buying it.  Tonight when I was walking to dinner, I forgot I had a white jacket on and the bats, again, got dangerously close.  I went into the first store and removed the jacket so I would not attract the bats.  By temperature standards, Lake Toba is like heaven about 10 degrees (Celsius) cooler than the rest of Asia.  It was so nice to put on shoes and a pair of jeans and not need AC to sleep.

Finally, I have had my first, second and third motor bike ride.  Because of my bat scare at dinner last night, and the absence of cars on Tuk Tuk (Tuk Tuk is the peninsular part of the island), I had to hire a motorbike to take me to and from the Batak dancing.  It is oddly relieving to know that I can place control in the hands of a stranger.  I did not think it was possible.  However, today I moved to another hotel to avoid having to be taken anywhere.  Unfortunately I had to go via motorbike. 

Since I can only handle so much 'alone' time, and I have the urge to dive again, I am heading to North Sumatra tomorrow before going to meet Colleen in Vietnam on the 14th.

Cost of a room: 50-100 IDR

Preferred method of transportation:  walking or motorbike

Vehicular travel in Indonesia

Exchange Rate: $1USD = 9,400IDR (Indonesian Rupiah)

Hello:  Selemat pagi (morning) / siang (late morning) / sore (afternoon) / malam (night)

Thank you:  Terima Kasih

Time difference: 14 hours ahead of PST

Cost of a Room: 300 IDR in Medan

Preferred method of transportation: bicycle of motorbike with sidecar

From Penang, I flew to Medan, Sumatra, Indonesia.  I arrived at night, in the middle of the Medan Ramadan Festival.  This was no ordinary festival.  I estimate that two and a half of the three million people living in Medan attended this festival, which occurred on two blocked off streets.  As expected, there was food everywhere.  I walked, slowly, with the crowd, through a small part of the festival before leaving due to the harassment I endured by the locals.  I was the only white person there, and I am pretty sure everyone was making fun of me.  Although it was in Indonesian, it was pretty clear when a kid would look at me and say 'hello', mutter something to his friend and crack up laughing.  

Thankfully, I was only passing through Medan on my way to Lake Toba.  I left bright and early the next morning in a small, 1970s minivan.  I was prematurely enthusiastic when I got the front seat and the van appeared to be full with no third passenger in the front.  I should have known better, transportation is always full.  The last passenger made it a little crowded, and somewhat awkward as he kept asking me my age and if I was married.  He could not believe I was 32 and not married.  Over and over again, he kept saying, 32?  Not married?, shaking his head in disbelief and translating for the driver. The minivan came with seat belts and smoking was allowed, without any concern for six passengers in the back. My seat belt was shared with the guy in the middle and I am  pretty sure he sat on it as opposed to locking it into a buckle.  

The highlights of the driving were as follows:

 - I learned that a motorbike can fit a family of four and the family pet.  Upon arrival at Lake Toba I was told that it can fix six, but I have yet to see the for myself.

 - There are no such things as 'driving lanes,' with the exception of the occasional fence in the middle of the road, which is also used to prevent jay walking.  You can pass on either the right or left and should signal with a honk to let the people around you know that you are coming and ensure they do not meander into your space.

 - It's OK to pass by following the person in front of you with a two foot gap.  You know it's time to get over when they do.  This particular method of driving does not work in theory, but every time we did it, I closed my eyes and we ended up back on the left side of the road miraculously avoiding a collision.

 - Drivers in Indonesia (Asia in general), know the size of their car to the inch.  Meaning when they follow, pass, or swerve back into the appropriate lane, they are within inches of skimming adjacent obstacles.  Understanding the exact size of the car can be the only explaination, right?

 - The smells are awful in Indonesia.  Because smells come from particles in the air, I refuse to breathe through my mouth, instead forcing myself to endure the pain.  The worst smell was the one that came from a truck filled with rotting chicken carcasses.  

 - One can fit 20 armchairs and 4 full size couches on the back of a flatbed Nissan truck.  Although it might look like it will topple over with the next sway, it doesn't. 

 - All this into consideration, it was a pretty good travel experience.  I thought the trip would take 5 hours, but thanks to the crack that the driver stopped to smoke along the way, we made it in about 4 hours.  And pretty comfortably.

More on Penang

Exchange Rate: $1USD = 3.4RM (ringgit)
Time difference: 15 hours ahead of PST

Cost of a room: $35 ringgit for shithole, $57 ringgit for nicer shithole

Perferred method of transport:  tri-cycle bike with cab in front
Penang is a small island off the western coast of Peninsular Malaysia by the Straight of Malacca.   I stayed in Georgetown.  It was very poor and very dirty, but the streets are filled with hard working people.  Most are cooking food, fixing motorbikes or selling fruits.  There are no sidewalks and walking in the road is a bit dangerous when you combine lousy driving skills with the random items parked on the road and general congestion.

Since Penang is known as the hawker capital of Malaysia, and I love food, I thought I'd write a bit about my eating experience. The Malaysian and Chinese extraction is best from a cart or market and is, surprisingly, everything that it is made out to be.

The Indian food was amazing.  After our previously described long journey, we were starving and went to the first Indian restaurant we could find on the main drag, Penang Road.  Shortly after we ordered we were presented with a banana leaf, which was our plate. At first I thought it was a place mat, but when they served the food with no plates, I followed the lead of my English friends and slopped the food right on the banana leaf. We were given silverware, whereas traditional Indian food is eaten with you hands.

Laska is a fish broth soup served with thick white rice noodles, vegetables and any kind of meat or seafood you would like.  I had to search a bit to find it the 'best Laksa on Penang Road', but it was well worth it once I got past the smell of sweaty feet crossed with sea food (this was the deli I was at, not the food itself).

Given the Chinese influence in Penang, the dim sum is phenomenal. It served in the same manner as we are used to; cafe style breakfast in a room where carts of food are wheeled by you and a variety of options are pointed at, presented and moved on to your table, usually without knowing what it is. The end result is always pleasant.

Random street food is fantastic. My second day, I wasn't so sure about Penang and decided to go to Lanksawi island. I gathered my stuff, got directions from Jim via ferry, bus, ferry and bus, and started sludging my way to the first ferry. Along the way I got hungry and stopped at a roadside stand. 

The server made a suggestion and I agreed to it, since I could not read the menu.  This was risky as this stand, along with most others in Penang, had whole, cooked chickens and pigs hanging from their cart. Since it was breakfast time, I hoped for the best, meaning a meal not including the head of an animal. I was pleased when my food came as a small bowl of soup and a square, flat, pastry with, presumably, egg in it. I have no idea what is was, but I was not steered wrong by the suggestion.

This is Jim and, as his motto states, he really can fix anything you need in Penang, and most of Thailand for that matter!  

I officially 'back packed it' yesterday. For starters, I took an 11 hour mini-van ride from Krabi to Penang, Malaysia in order to save $150 on a hour-long flight. I have officially lost the time-value-of-money concept. About 5 hours into the trip, the driver stopped, got my backpack out of the car and placed it on the sidewalk. He pointed to a cafe across the street, I think, and mutter something in Thai. I asked him to hold on while I struggled to get my ever-growing, 50 pound backpack on to my back. He decided to get back in the car and leave. I knew I was still in Thailand, but I had no idea where. I am only able to idenfity the town as Thailand's extra-large, stuffed hello kitty doll capital. Luckily when I got to the cafe, they seemed to be expecting me, put me in another car for about 4 blocks where I transferred to another car and was asked to hand over my passport for a few minutes. Sketchy, but it all worked out just fine.

When we got to Penang, I was going to head to the beach, but I met some English people on the ride down and decided to stay in Georgetown for a night or two. Penang is full of rich Malaysian and Indian food that Lonely Planet (aka the bible) raves about so it wasn't a hard decision. It had been a long day, it was hot and I was starving. The mini-van does not stop for food. I looked at a couple of guest houses, and found the best option within the time limits I had established to dump my backpack and get some food in my belly:

Please notice the seductive poster on the wall on the right, it was a nice touch and not even an advertisement, it was there for guest's viewing pleasure. What you don't see in these pictures are the gaps between the wall and ceiling, the electrical tape holding up parts of one wall while the adjacent wall is falling apart. Maybe I am just getting more used to traveling, but it wasn't really that bad until the Monks started chanting at 5am. That was the deal breaker for me. I found a nicer hotel today and will be leaving tomorrow to go to Sumatra, Indonesia.

For anyone coming to Penang, I must recommend Mr. Jim. He is a local who runs a guest house on Chulia Road (its a dicey area but many people like it). He is an older Jamacian guy who can, and will, do anything. He'll get visas, exchange your money, get you a ticket out of Penang, and even get you a beer and some food. And he does it with lightening fast speed, which is not typical for Asia. And, he just might be the happiest person I've ever met. Meeting Jim has been a riot!

Krabi

Krabi is gorgeous! Krabi is made of limestone jetting out of the Adaman Sea and surrounded by Islands of the same. The shape of the rocks has changed over time due to erosion, which enhances the view by adding nooks, crannies and caves throughout the islands. Everywhere you look, the scenery is stunning to say the least. The first day I took an organized tour around some of the local islands and snorkeled. This is one of many of the beaches we visited.

The rest of this is going to read like a story in the hopes of having you experience it the way I did. Given my literary skills, I mainly hope you can follow my emotional roller coaster.

U of M reference: ladies, do you remember the day we went to the Arb and when we walked in we saw that dog running in, clean and happy about to have a great day? When we walked out, the dog was muddy and dirty and slowly humping along. It's kind of like that.

On the second day I got a long boat from Ao Nang, the beach where I am staying, and headed over to Railay Beach. I had heard from a girl in my dive class that there was a great lagoon you could hike to. Also, I was flirting with trying an introductory rock climbing course, depending on the height and steepness of the climbs, and Railay was a good place to do it. After inquiring about climbing, I decided to search out the path to the lagoon. People kept telling me where to go, but I couldn't find it. There was supposed to be a sign right by a hut along the concrete path between two beaches. After about an hour of walking back and forth, back and forth, I finally found it. By that time I had succumbed to wanting what I didn't think I could have; I needed to see that damn lagoon. There was one small problem, the path to the lagoon started at about a 65-degree angle and wasn't a path at all, but rather a hillside with rocks and tree roots.

After sitting for a few minutes, staring at that initial climb, I decided there wasn't a chance I was going up there alone. I asked everyone passing by if they were going to the lagoon, hoping to find a group to tag along with, but no one was going. I started to think that the beach would be good enough for the day.

Although the beach had some nice caves and scenery and the rest of the area was great, I still wanted to either find the lagoon or go rock climbing. After seeing the sheer vertical nature of the rocks, I thought I'd go the easy route and find a local guide to take me to the lagoon.

So, I hired Paul, a local rock climbing instructor. A professional was probably a bit extreme for this venture, but what the hell, he was the only guy I could find who would take me. That should have been my first clue.

We made our way up the first part pretty easily and for a few minutes, I had thought I was being a wimp by hiring a guide. But after we got to the view point overlooking all of Railay Beach, it all changed.

Because the lagoon is at sea level, we had to go back down to get to it. This was not for the faint of heart. It was actual rock climbing, unharnessed. The path down was tiered with vertical descents supported by knotted ropes. With each step I had to find a foot hold and something to grip on to with my hands, which was usually rock instead of the rope. Each 3-point hold, obviously, had to be secure. One tier had me hanging from a rope off of a 15' high drop. I nearly had a panic attack at that point and was no longer thinking that a professional rock climber was too much. At many points, he was the only way I could have found foot holds. After I made my way down from my hanging adventure, I could see the lagoon, so we kept going. The picture below on the left is a view looking up, you can see the path on the right side of the picture; the one on the right is looking down, you can see the lagoon through the crevice.

By the time we got there, I was covered, head to toe, in clay mud. Paul told me that the locals always know when someone has gone there because they come out looking like a disaster. The lagoon was gorgeous. It was about 100-150 feet wide with 200' high vertical limestone cliffs surrounding it. The lagoon was at sea level and filled with sea water. It was full at high tide, as seen here, but empty at low tide. Surprise, surprise, there were only a few people there. I think most of those who found the path decided the beach was a better choice for the day.

Since the most difficult part was the decent to the lagoon, the trip back was easy. It is much easier to go up than down when climbing. On the way back Paul told me this climb was scarier than actual rock climbing....no harness.

This shirt is a reference point as to how dirty I got. I only wore this on the way to the lagoon. After my swim, it was entirely too dirty to put back on. Needless to say, my bathing suit and body bore the brunt of the clay mud on the way out.